


Sisters and Senpais and Secrets and Chocolate

by karotsamused



Series: Four Words Each [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Girl, F/M, Fluff, Menstruation, ambiguous gender identity, female Nishinoya, secret volleyball princess, tw: nonmalicious misgendering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karotsamused/pseuds/karotsamused
Summary: ORHow To Deal With Bleeding For A Weekby: Tanaka SaekoQuintessential WomanStriking BeautyReliable SisterPercussionistScholarExpert





	Sisters and Senpais and Secrets and Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> OR
> 
> Noya and the Red Tide  
> Noya and Aunt Flo  
> Noya and the Crimson Horror  
> Noya and Shark Week
> 
> Just a whole bunch of Noya handling his period, and the people that get caught up in it. The timing jumps ahead with each new section: Saeko's happens pretty early, and by the time we get to Asahi their relationship is well established. Thanks as always to my Bean.

Saeko isn’t drunk. Sure, she knocked more than a few back in the name of socializing, but she’s not drunk. She’s that pleasant sort of warm and tipsy, where her blood buzzes under her skin and her cheeks feel warm and tight.

So it’s embarrassing, when she ignores the light on under the bathroom door and just swings it open.

Saeko sobers quickly. Ryuu’s little friend Yuu is in there, clearly scrubbing fresh, bright blood off his hands and down into the sink drain. He’s got some white fabric clenched in white-knuckled hands, and his sleeping shirt only comes down to just the tops of his thighs. To her horror, Saeko notices the beginnings of a red, liquid trail running down the insides of them.

Yuu stares at her like a deer in headlights. His throat clicks when he swallows.

Saeko steps in and shuts the door, a few things clicking very fast in her head.

“Don’t use hot water,” she whispers, coming closer and switching the taps. “Heat binds protein; the stains won’t come out.”

Yuu hasn’t moved, is still staring at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She grabs him by the wrists and thrusts his briefs back under the water. “Come on, scrub. You might still do it.”

He lurches to life, rubbing his hands together under the water. Saeko grabs a bar of hand soap, the one she always relies on, the one that’s never let her down, and says, “Use this.”

He obeys, working up a lather, scrubbing and scrubbing until the fabric is almost perfectly clean. All the blood was bright red, meaning he caught it fast and it didn’t have much time to set in. His hands are turning red from the cold of the water. His hair hangs down around his ears. His eyes are bright, too wet.

Saeko leans against the side of the sink. She knows this kind of panic. “Your first one?”

Yuu flinches. But then, in a low croak, says, “Yeah.”

“You’re, like, fifteen. That’s really late,” she whispers.

“I work out. I work out really hard,” he says, not looking at her.

She lets out a breath. “Does Ryuu know?”

He nods, but the set of his jaw makes it clear it’s not that they were up to anything. Maybe it’s that she’s not drunk, that’s why she’s so calm about this. Maybe it’s because her parents are sleeping a few yards away and waking them would be a catastrophe. Or maybe it’s because Yuu is so…small, like this.

“Do your parents know?” Saeko whispers.

Yuu shrugs. But he’s holding tighty whities, not panties, so there’s got to be some kind of understanding between them, right? Saeko sighs a little. “Because I wanna know how you’re gonna get your hands on tampons.”

The almighty blush that crosses Yuu’s face would be priceless under any other circumstances. Like this, it’s just kind of sad. Saeko reaches out and puts her hand between his shoulders. “Maybe it’s not my business, but. Tonight it is. I don’t use pads so you’re gonna have to deal.”

Yuu turns off the water, wrings out his underpants. When he turns, lifting his head, he looks _terrified_. But he smirks and says, “Sure, I can deal.”

Saeko ruffles his head. “You always call me nee-san, right? This is what big sisters do.”

Yuu wrings his briefs between his hands again, trying to squeeze every last drop from them. “Right.”

Saeko takes it as the best answer she’s going to get out of the kid and heads past him to the cabinet to find her stash. First periods aren’t usually so heavy, right? Maybe better not to scare him with the Supers. But. But what if he leaks, damn, and his undies aren’t going to be dry until morning at _best_ —

“Nee-san. Are you freaking out?”

His voice is a whisper. She looks over her shoulder and grins at him. “Yep. Aren’t you?”

Yuu considers, then nods. “Yep.”

Saeko grabs one of her smallest tampons. She turns on him and says, “Here. This one’s the easiest kind. Unwrap it, and then just push it in as far as you can, but make sure you don’t lose the string.”

He takes the little wrapper and frowns at it. “Just. Push it in. That simple.”

“It’s not rocket science. D’you know these were used to stop the bleeding in bullet wounds?” she asks, turning her back on him and crossing her arms. “So pretend you’re in a war or something.”

Yuu snickers. It’s a welcome sound, and Saeko finds herself grinning too. “Don’t be an idiot about it, but it helps if you put one of your legs up on the edge of the tub.”

“Ugh,” says Yuu, the first of many disgusted, annoyed noises he makes.

Resolutely, Saeko keeps her back turned until she hears the water turn back on. Yuu looks more like he’s just committed a murder than put in a tampon, but it’s an art form he’ll have time to practice. Saeko grabs a washcloth and tosses it in his direction so he can tend to the carnage between his legs.

“Nee-san. This is… really uncomfortable.”

“For me too, buddy, but you get used to it,” she says, her back still turned. “Wiggle around.”

Yuu grumbles but from the sound of fabric moving, does as he’s told. “Are you gonna tell anyone?”

Saeko snorts. “Clearly you don’t want me to. Did you bleed on your pants?”

“N-ooo,” Yuu says.

Saeko waves a hand. “Good, put ‘em on. I’ll keep your shorts until morning, they should be dry by then.”

“Nee-san.”

Saeko turns and sees Yuu shaking his pj pants out like they’re dusty. She sighs and turns away again. “Yeah?”

“Are you gonna tell anyone?” he asks again. It’s quieter, just barely a whisper.

Saeko sighs, running her hand through her hair. “No. But can you tell me - d’you want to be a boy? Is that it?”

“Um,” says Yuu. He comes to her side, hitching his pants up over his hips. “I don’t care. But I wanna play on the team.”

There’s a pause before Saeko has to smack her hands over her mouth to stifle a laugh. Such a simple reason! She looks down at Yuu, this slip of a kid, fifteen and finally, finally becoming an adult while at a sleepover. She hooks her arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug, lets him put his cheek against her boobs.

“Okay. Then I have a couple more things to warn you about. That tampon should do you ok for now, but you gotta change ‘em every six hours or so, more if you get a heavy flow. And movin’ around a lot, like playing volleyball, means you might get spots anyway just because. So wear your _black_ chonies on flow days. Shit, just stop with the white ones, what are you, forty? And take a few aspirin every morning as soon as you get up, even before you eat. If you’re like most girls your period’s gonna give you cramps and the shits something awful. Nothin’ to do for the shits, but I’d rather crack the porcelain than have a serious cramp.”

Yuu gives her the big eyes, awed and fearful and with just a little more respect than before. “Uh. Okay?”

“You’ll figure it out as you go but hiding it’s gonna mean there’s a super steep learning curve.” Saeko boops him on the nose. “But that’s what Nee-san is for.”

He wrinkles his nose at the booping, even though it resolves into a smile. “But, uh. Every six hours, that’s really. Frequent.”

“You’re worried about at school, right? Just hide ‘em in your clothes. I keep mine in my bra, but if you don’t have the elbow room use your socks, or roll one in your waistband. Like the least cool cigarettes ever.”

Yuu gives Saeko’s bosom a wary look and says, “I don’t, uh. Think the bra thing is gonna work for me.”

“Get creative. I know you’re smart,” she says, knuckling the top of his head. “For now you’re good until morning and you know where they are. So sleep on it.”

With a sigh, Yuu tries to pull away from her. She ducks down and grabs him up close, giving him the tightest squeeze she can. “Gah, Nee-san!”

Saeko whispers, “Most people celebrate this, you know? If you don’t feel like celebrating, I get it. But you deserve a hug.”

Yuu goes limp as a cat in her arms, sighing. His shoulders don’t shake, but his face screws up with emotion. Softly, he says, “You smell like alcohol.”

“I’m a little drunk,” Saeko admits, not letting him go. “But I could do this shit in my sleep. And I super love you, you little punk.”

With a soft sigh, Yuu turns in her arms and hugs her back. He doesn’t stuff his face into her boobs, but into her armpit, hiding in the fabric of her sleeve. For a long, quiet moment, Saeko pets his hair and lets him hide. She doesn’t know what he thinks about this, whether he’s happy or angry or scared or relieved. But no matter what, he deserves the affection.

When he pulls back, his cheeks are a little pink, but he gives her a smile.

“Drink some water so you aren’t hung over in the morning,” he says.

Saeko whaps him upside the head, but only a glancing blow. “Don’t you tell me how to handle a hangover, little man. Get out, I gotta pee.”

Yuu laughs. “Ew,” he says. Ew! The nerve! He dances out of her reach, cheeky and happy and Saeko wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He leaves, shutting the door behind him. The only evidence at all is the wrapper in the trash and his damp briefs hanging over the edge of the sink.

Saeko sighs. Maybe she’s too drunk for this, or maybe not drunk enough? Whichever, she’s not ready for this in the middle of the night. So. So she plunks down on the toilet like she’d intended from the moment she got home, closes her eyes, and breaks the seal.

 

* * *

 

Kiyoko doesn’t often get confessions anymore. When she was younger, when she first started high school and the boys realized she’d bloomed over the summer, she found a letter in her desk or her shoe locker once every couple of weeks.

But then she started helping out with the volleyball team, and became the manager. By that point, any boys that looked her way realized either that she wasn’t interested, or that their advances would be rebuffed with the strength of a minimum of seven freakishly tall boys that hit things as hard as they could for fun.

Kiyoko doesn’t much mind that part of her reputation, because every letter always received the same answer: a polite but firm refusal. She’s often more inclined to be kind to letter-writers, given her experience with boys that went for a more direct route.

So when she opens her shoe locker to find an envelope, she tucks it into her bag to read later, as usual, and doesn’t for a second think it had been written by anyone that played volleyball.

In the privacy of the girls’ bathroom - because her classmates have the tendency of stealing love letters to read aloud, and Kiyoko thinks that is terribly cruel - she opens the envelope to find spiky, rushed handwriting.

 

_Shimizu-san_

_This isn’t a love note but please pretend it is. I really really really REALLY REALLY need your help and I didn’t know how else to ask for it. Please meet me on the roof before practice??_

_—Noya_

 

Kiyoko frowns at the paper. For a confession, it’s awfully roundabout, and for Nishinoya it’s even more so.

Still. He’s a player on the team, and she’s their manager, and he needs help. So she puts the note carefully back into its envelope, slips the envelope into her blazer, and returns to class.

After the bell signaling the end of the day, she rises and takes the stairs to the roof. Honestly, students aren’t supposed to be up here, but it isn’t as though Nishinoya believes in rules.

She finds him hiding at the furthest wall from the door, hunched by an air conditioning unit so he won’t be seen from the ground.

“Nishinoya—“ she begins.

He starts. “Ah - Shimizu-san. I. I need help. Thank you. I.”

Kiyoko blinks at him. He’s all nerves, his hands clasped in front of himself, clenching and unclenching with no rhythm. But he isn’t looking at her like he’s lovesick, rather like he’s about to _be_ sick.

“This upcoming training camp. I’m going. I’m going to.” He pauses, swallows. He takes a breath, and then gestures for her to come closer.

Tentatively, she takes a few steps, but he closes the distance when there’s about an arms’ length between them. Into her ear, on breath sour with nerves, he whispers, “I’m going to be on my period and I need someone to hide the stuff for me.”

Kiyoko jolts, staring at him. At first, she thinks it must be some kind of poorly-conceived joke, but he’s about to chew a hole into his lower lip and he’s shaking, little tremors in his shoulders.

Quickly, he adds, “I’ll buy it all. I’ll give it to you. I just. I just need to keep it in your bag. You know?”

“We’re going to be sleeping in different buildings,” she says quietly, because it’s the only logical answer.

Nishinoya winces. “I know, but—”

Kiyoko holds her hand up. “Unwrap them and hide them in your socks.”

“Huh?” asks Nishinoya, frowning. “But— gross!”

“Not until you use them,” says Kiyoko, reasonably. She presses her lips together. “If you take the plastic off it won’t make any noise. It won’t be good for the plumbing, but you can flush them when you’re done.”

Nishinoya frowns, looking down at his hands. “You don’t think anyone will see?”

“If they do, only the ones with big sisters might know,” says Kiyoko softly. “Or you can pretend they’re something else.”

“Soldiers used tampons to stop the bleeding in bullet wounds,” Nishinoya says, wry and quiet.

Kiyoko doesn’t see how that applies, but it seems like it helps him. She just waits, watching the gears turn in his head. She’s learned that Nishinoya needs a good run-up to certain ideas, particularly the ones that make sense.

When he looks at her again, he’s anguished. “Do you mean I didn’t have to tell you?!”

Kiyoko fights the urge to step backward, but she does hold her hands up to remind him to keep his voice down. He doesn’t look chastened. If anything, he might just be about to explode.

“I’m glad you did,” she says, quickly. She’s not entirely sure if that’s true but it _does_ stop the oncoming fit. “I’ll make sure to have some extras for emergencies.”

Nishinoya sags, rubbing his hands over his face. “Thanks. Um. Could you not tell anybody. Please.”

With utmost certainty, Kiyoko says, “Nobody would believe me.”

Nishinoya busts into a bright grin. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment. Hey, um, so if someone asks can you just say you turned me down for a date or something?”

Kiyoko nods. She almost wishes it _had_ been a confession, because that would be easier to think about. Nishinoya has periods, Nishinoya is a _girl_.

But Nishinoya also trusted her, even if only out of perceived necessity. So she keeps her quiet, and follows Nishinoya down the stairs off the roof, and they part ways to go change for practice.

 

* * *

 

Asahi learned pretty quickly that Noya’s parents aren’t around. Not because they didn’t love him, but because they have work in the city that keeps them far away from home. The house Noya lives in belongs to the family, and he’d shared it with his grandmother before she’d passed away, and by that point Noya was independent enough to care for himself and for her together. He’d managed to convince his parents he was fine in the house by himself. It didn’t escape Asahi that the timing coincided with Noya pretending to be a boy.

Still, it’s surreal to see Noya alone in a grocery store, and moreso to see how healthy his choices are. And, hidden among leafy green vegetables and energy drinks, a white box of — oh, of _feminine supplies_.

“Asahi-san!” he says, beaming when he sees Asahi. “Are you here with your parents?”

“Uh,” says Asahi, his eyes still locked on the basket. “N-no. My mom sent me for eggs.”

“Walk with me then,” says Noya, bumping his shoulder against Asahi’s arm. “I need those too.”

As they walk together, Noya talks about something. Asahi’s sure of it. But all he can do is pointedly _not_ look down at that little white box. Noya’s got a functioning body that's, well, in its prime so to speak, so it follows logically that Noya needs… feminine supplies.

Hell, Asahi has a mom. And a sister. He’s seen the wrappers in the trash, seen the boxes under the sink. But he’d given himself that blissful, ignorant distance of not thinking all too hard about what the contents of those boxes meant.

It wasn’t as though he and Noya had gotten past kissing! It was just. Despite any evidence to the contrary, Asahi is a red-blooded teenager and his boyfriend-girlfriend has a tendency to climb him like a tree, and the insides of Noya’s thighs are very, very, _very_ soft. He knows that, because he’s had to catch Noya on more than one occasion, and Noya wears shorts to practice in, and practice is when he tends to roughhouse, and. And roughhousing makes Noya want kisses.

And, well, Asahi is just so much bigger than Noya. The easiest path for Noya to get kisses is always _up_ , and Asahi has enough up for anyone, and so. So Asahi knows what it feels like to have Noya’s thighs digging into his hips and Noya’s arms around his neck and Noya’s lips on his and it’s the most perfect torture he’s ever survived. Because, if he could, Asahi would be like Noya and just kiss him all the time. But at the same time, the press of their bodies makes him want, makes him _want_ Noya in ways he knows aren’t fair.

And it’s probably really awful of him to equate Noya’s — _feminine needs_ — with the things Asahi wants, but at this point he’s grasping at straws.

He’s woken in the morning with a tent in his shorts more times than he’d care to think of, remembering all the times Noya has pretended to adjust his balls. He can’t go down this ridiculous path again. Blood isn’t sexy. And pain isn’t either. Right, be a normal human and relax about Noya buying tampons.

But — but _if Noya is buying tampons how the hell does he get away with it?_

“Asahi-san,” says Noya, pushing a carton of eggs against Asahi’s chest. “Here, I checked these.”

“Oh. Thank you,” says Asahi, shaking himself out of his head. He accepts the carton, holding it in both hands.

Noya checks another carton for himself, turning each egg in nimble fingers. Ugh, no matter what, Asahi’s always going to be a pervert, isn’t he?

He sighs, stepping out of the way a little better and watching Noya’s hands. He’s bitten the nail of his fourth finger off almost down to the quick, and it’s growing back in a knobby, uneven shelf that leaves most of his fingertip exposed and purple-pink with bruise. He uses that finger to balance each egg and spins them with his index and thumb, checking for cracks.

When he’s satisfied, he shuts the lid of the carton and sets it in his basket, on top of the white box.

“Asahi-san, you’re a million miles away,” Noya says, chiding.

“Ah — yeah,” says Asahi, laughing nervously. “Caught me.”

“Come back to earth, spaceman. Did you hear anything I said?”

Asahi winces, flushing. “Not really.”

Noya cocks his hip out, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

Asahi shakes his head. “No, I’m good. Eggs are the only thing I was supposed to get.”

Noya eyes him, then snorts. “Write it down if it’s that hard to remember.”

When Noya turns from him, heading toward the cash registers, Asahi lets out a relieved breath. Noya still hasn’t figured out how awful he really is, and he’d prefer to keep that a secret as long as possible.

As he follows Noya down one of the aisles, though, he pauses. When his sister’s period comes, she reliably wants a few things, and most of them involve a heating pad and romantic movies. But. But really good, dark chocolate, she likes that too. With a glance at Noya’s back, he quickly selects a couple of chocolate bars and then hurries to catch him up.

If Noya notices Asahi putting chocolate bars on the conveyor, he doesn’t say anything. He talks amiably with the checker, not even batting an eye when the box of tampons scans with a _beep_. Somehow, somehow they make it through _both_ transactions without an alarm sounding. Noya doesn’t get arrested, Asahi doesn’t explode, the checker doesn’t ask questions.

When they’re outside, Asahi says, “Ah, Noya. Wait.”

Noya turns to him, still smiling for all that Asahi basically ignored him in the grocery store. “Yeah?”

Asahi licks his lips, can’t help but blush when Noya’s eyes flick down to his mouth and back up. No, not that, not now. He reaches into his bag and holds out the chocolate bars.

Noya blinks at him. “What are these for?”

Asahi glances away, down toward his shoes. “For, um. For spacing out.”

Noya holds out one of the bags, lets Asahi slip the chocolate bars into it. “I mean, I’ll take ‘em, but you didn’t have to.”

Asahi smiles a little. “I’m allowed to do stuff like this.”

Noya puffs his cheeks out, the one signal Asahi’s worked out means _if I could, I’d kiss you_. All he says is, “You should come over.”

“I’ve got eggs,” says Asahi, with no small amount of regret.

“Yeah, yeah. You still should.” Noya waves as he turns toward his empty home. “See you later, Asahi-san.”

“Bye,” Asahi says in response.

He takes the walk home slowly, considering. Maybe Noya doesn’t know what those chocolate bars are for but it was nice to give them to him anyway. And though Noya prefers action movies to romance, maybe the heating pad isn’t a bad idea either.

He doesn’t get a chance to put that idea into practice for a while, though. The thing is, Asahi can’t quite bring himself to ask whether or not Noya’s on his period, and he’s not sure what signs are tells. Noya’s behavior, his exuberance, his energy don’t seem to fluctuate on a monthly basis.

So Asahi does the only thing he can think of, and starts trying to keep Noya’s belly warm all the time. When they’re cuddling to watch movies, he pulls Noya’s back flush to his chest and rests his hand low on Noya’s belly. When he holds Noya to kiss him, he presses one hand to the small of Noya’s back. Even if Noya doesn’t notice, Asahi hopes it helps.

There’s an afternoon where he’s proved right. They’re caught in a summer rainstorm on the way home from school, and Asahi ducks into Noya’s house to wait out the squall. After throwing Asahi a towel, Noya shuts himself in his room to strip out of his soaked practice clothes, and comes back out with a blanket from his bed. They curl up together on the sofa, Noya snuggled between Asahi’s legs.

Sometimes when they sit like this, Noya faces him to kiss him, but this time Noya makes sure his back is pressed to Asahi’s stomach. And he takes Asahi’s hands, situating them on himself where he likes them, so Asahi has one arm looped loosely around his waist and his other hand pressed flat to Noya’s belly.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs, slowly starting to relax.

Asahi shivers, draws the blanket around them better. “Am I helping?”

“Uh-hm,” says Noya, pressing his hand over Asahi’s to keep it there.

Somehow this is better than kissing. It’s the feeling of Noya trusting him, being soothed by him. Asahi rests his cheek on Noya’s damp hair, trying not to move at all otherwise. “Good.”

Okay, Asahi was wrong. It’s not better than kissing, because Noya twists to kiss his chin and that’s perfect. Even better when Asahi moves with him and presses soft kisses to Noya’s mouth. Yeah, this is the best. Noya warm and soothed in his arms, rain outside and the gentle touches of their lips.

“Asahi,” Noya murmurs, nosing him. “Asahi, why d’you think you’re helping me?”

“Uh. Because you’re cold,” Asahi says, feeling a flush start in his neck and climb to his cheeks.

Noya hums. He kisses Asahi again, then says, “Oh. Yeah, I’m warmer now.”

“You got pretty wet in the rain.”

“So did you!” Noya says, laughing. “You’re still wet. You should have taken your shirt off.”

“Uh,” says Asahi, staring blankly ahead.

Noya must feel his heartbeat ratchet up, because he pats Asahi’s chest. “Or not, relax. My virtue is intact. Not like we were gonna do anything today anyway.”

“Why, um. Why not?” Asahi asks, torn between relief and (perverted, degenerate, dirty) disappointment.

Noya fixes him with a look. It’s assessing, bold, bright. “I just can’t. But soon, maybe.”

“Noya!” Asahi squeaks, scandalized. Asahi takes his hands back to hide his face in them.

“Hey hey! Get back here,” says Noya, grabbing his wrists. “I need those!”

“Sorry, sorry,” says Asahi, pulling Noya close again. He presses his palm flat to Noya’s belly and hides his face in Noya’s hair. “Sorry.”

“One sorry was enough,” says Noya, settling back into his hold. “If you don’t want to just say so.”

“I mean. It’s not like you haven’t seen me with my shirt off before,” says Asahi softly. “So it’s not a big deal either way, is it?”

Noya sighs, leaning his head back against Asahi’s shoulder. “Do you wanna see _me_ with my shirt off?”

Asahi tenses, his breath catching in his throat. He must make some kind of sound because the air rushes out of him on a shaky breath. His hands go tight with surprise and he thinks fervently, desperately, of volleyball strategies.

Noya laughs. It’s not an unkind laugh, but it doesn’t bode well for Asahi’s peace of mind anyway. He says, “Oh. Okay, maybe we’ll do that soon, too.”


End file.
